


Ensnarement

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-07
Updated: 2008-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8093827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: The lake’s surface was perfectly inert, not a ripple disturbed its lifeless stillness. Lifelessness could pose no threats, could it?Written for Drown Malcolm Month





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: This is set before the episode where Archer finds out about Malcolm's acquaphobia.  
  
Grateful thanks to RoaringMice who was my beta.  


* * *

The lakeâ€™s surface was perfectly inert, not a ripple disturbed its lifeless stillness. Not an insect buzzed by, or bird soared above it; not the slightest breeze stirred a leaf on the trees. In the dead of night, the lake was, in truth, dead.

Lifelessness could pose no threats, could it?

Malcolm took another, determined step forward. Perhaps it could, considering the many ghosts â€“ no more alive than this expanse of water â€“ that haunted his subconscious.

But not tonight.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tripâ€™s subconscious was gently pushed aside as his mind drifted somewhat closer to the surface. Suspended between sleep and wakefulness, in the boundary where dreams canâ€™t quite be distinguished from reality, he could only vaguely acknowledge sensations, for thought was still safely tucked away.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A sensation of coldness. The waterâ€™s indistinct darkness threatened to send a shiver down Malcolmâ€™s spine in spite of the warm air, but he fought it off. He took the last step to the waterline and lazily lowered on his haunches. Reaching a flat hand out, palm down, he let it hover as close to the surface as possible without disturbing it.

Disturbing the water. That was a new concept. Normally, it was the water disturbing him. Normally, its presence so close by â€“ though still and silent â€“ would be enough to put him on edge.

But tonight it was different.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perched on the edge of awareness, Trip revelled in his comfortable relaxation, his worry-free state. The air was fresh-smelling, with hints of earth and grass.

It was redolent of other times, other places. Trip followed its path into memory and then dream, sinking deeper, into oblivion.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three paths of yellowish light were beckoning him. Three: the perfect number. Three moons forming an arch, like an eyebrow lifted in challenge on the face of the universe. Malcolm let his gaze trace the yellow trails across the water all the way up to the bright spheres.

Yes, tonight it was different.

He rose.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tripâ€™s mind rose up from the depths once again, floating close enough to the surface to know that he was in no hurry to break through to it. Why disturb this peaceful abandonment? He was so pleasantly weightless; indeed until he moved a muscle he would not know that he still had a body.

The silence was complete, almost imposing; if he put an ear to it, he could hear it behind the soft rhythm of his breathing; stillness so all-encompassing he felt he had no right to shatter it.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malcolm could remember the moment when his world had shattered. A moment frozen in time. A memory so fresh youâ€™d think it had just happened. His fatherâ€™s disappointment was forever etched in his mind; his own feelings forever etched in his heart with painful chisel work. In that moment, suddenly old beyond his age, he had known nothing would ever be the same again. He had betrayed expectations. Expectations. A word. A probability. An intangible nothing. He had betrayed nothing and yet he was a traitor.

Malcolm closed his eyes, deepening his breathing to push the memory down, down and back into its cage, where most of the time he managed to keep it locked.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trip shifted position and was locked in an uncomfortable embrace. He struggled against the light blanket he had covered himself with, more for cosiness than a need to keep warm. The movement finally pulled him back to full awareness. Having broken the spell, he yawned and limply rolled on his back, lifting a hand to rub his sleepy eyes.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lifting one bare foot, for a moment Malcolm kept his balance on one leg; then slowly put the foot down, piercing his quiet enemy. Concentric ripples sped away, like intruder alerts. Malcolm allowed the second foot to follow. Ankle-deep in water, he felt the soft, muddy bottom give way a little under his weight. Calmly, he twisted back to watch his footprints on the shore, nice and neat. As if somebody had disappeared.

Turning back to the yellow paths, he waded forth; one step, and then another. The cool wetness gradually seeped up his sweatpants. Ignoring the unpleasant feeling of soggy material against his skin, he went on, arms wrapped around his bare chest.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tripâ€™s chest heaved as he took in a deep breath.

Cracking his eyes open, he saw that it was dark. Still a few hours before dawn.

Letting the air slowly out, he allowed his eyelids to droop closed again, quite content to heed once more the sweet pull of unconsciousness.

Something came to tug him the other way.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He could feel the slight tug of a weak underwater current, right at the bottom, near his feet.

Now the water was up to his lower ribcage. Malcolm stopped. He was walking right into a lake, an alien lake, at night, alone.

A smile crept up his face. His heart was beating loudly with excitement, making him feel alive. He pushed forward, feet shuffling tentatively in the soft mud, legs pushing against the friction of the water.

Tonight there was no fear, no turning back.

The bottom sloped suddenly deeper and he felt the liquid rise to his chest; he opened his arms for balance.

Tonight was different.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something was different. Trip didnâ€™t quite know what. He would have shrugged it off and turned on the other side, if it hadnâ€™t been for a nagging voice that told him he should not.

He forced his sluggish senses to focus. Complete silence still surrounded him, almost threateningly. Maybe that was what had kept pulling him back from the arms of Morpheus; maybe heâ€™d become so used to having the throb of a warp engine in the background that this stillness had disturbed his sleep cycle. Mind you, there was always Malcolmâ€™s snoring, which largely compensated forâ€“

Wait a secondâ€¦ Trip held his breath and then it struck him: the emptiness, the absence.

As he pushed to a sitting position, he already knew that he was alone. Indeed, Malcolm was no longer there. The tentâ€™s opening had been unzipped and a sliver of yellowish light was seeping through the narrow gap.

He probably left to relieve himself â€“ Trip reasoned. One of the drawbacks of spending an evening drinking around a campfire.

Dropping back down flat on his back, Trip smiled at the memory of Archer suddenly appearing from the Shuttlepod with three bottles of beer hanging from each hand. He and Malcolm had shared a surprised glance â€“ had the man hidden the beer on the vessel beforehand, or had he just asked to have it beamed down? Their faces had soon mellowed into a smile of approval: it was only appropriate that they toast their one-night shore leave. It wasnâ€™t very often one got to sleep off ship.

Trip had loved the Captainâ€™s idea of camping out on the planet they were studying, while the science teams returned to the ship. Green eyes narrowing, Jon had said, â€œMaybe Iâ€™ll ask Malcolm too. Heâ€™d probably worry if we were to stay here by ourselves. We donâ€™t want him to toss and turn all night.â€

In the end it had turned out a quiet, companionable evening; and Malcolm, surprisingly, had seemed almost at ease in the Captainâ€™s presence. He had probably appreciated having been asked to be of the party, and felt he had to try his best to be good company.

Tripâ€™s thoughts were drawn back the present. Well, Malcolm may not have tossed and turned all night, but if he had got up because of natureâ€™s call, he was really taking a bit too long.

On the other hand he might have heard a noise and felt he had to investigate it â€“ his conscience nagged. He is the Security Officer; a light-sleeper. 

It was no good. Trip blew out a frustrated breath. Now that he knew the man was up and about, he wouldnâ€™t be able to go back to sleep before heâ€™d made sure everything was okay. Indeed, technically it was his duty.

With a sigh, he pushed to a sitting position again; then crawled out of the tent.

It was a beautiful night, with the planetâ€™s three small moons providing quite a bit of light. Trip looked up at the pretty sight they offered, grateful for the added brightness; he had always found it eerie to be out in the open after dark, when all you could perceive were shapes and shadows; when even the most charming places could be changed into nightmarish landscapes.

Rising to his full height, Trip shifted his gaze from the three bright spheres and scanned the meadow on the edge of which they had set up camp, at the foot of a rock face. Extending between a forest and a rather large lake, with rock on one side, it was a gently sloping stretch of land big enough to park a Shuttlepod on. Trip could make out the vessel pretty clearly, right in the middle of the field. It looked undisturbed. Archerâ€™s tent also looked undisturbed, a few meters to the left of his and Malcolmâ€™s. In the distance were the ominous, looming shadows of the first line of tall trees. Trip hoped he didnâ€™t have to go seek Malcolm in there. Even with three moons, he wouldnâ€™t be crazy about the idea.

His hands went to his hips. Where the hell was the damn man?

A sound made him turn abruptly to the only place he had not thought of checking.

Son-of-aâ€¦ 

He almost burst out laughing. A night dip was the last thing he would have expected; especially from Malcolm. Rigid Reed really had set his formality aside this time.

â€œHey, Lieutenant,â€ Trip said in a loud whisper â€“ for Archer was sleeping nearby â€“ as he started down to the shore. â€œYouâ€™re not in the buff, are you?â€ That would be something.

Malcolm didnâ€™t seem to have heard him. Trip grinned widely; he should get his camera, while the man was unaware of him. He turned about; but that nagging voice spoke again, pulling him to a halt.

Swivelling slowly, Trip studied his friend, and his smile gradually fell. Something wasnâ€™t adding up. Although he had spoken softly, in the silence and with the presence of water he was sure his voice had carried quite far; plus Malcolm was always very aware of what was going on around him. Yet there he was, standing chest-deep in the water, some ten metres from the shore, with his back to the land, motionless. Indeed, the man must have been quite still for a while, because despite the light of three moons, Trip hadnâ€™t noticed his presence until that faint splashing noise.

Trip frowned. Come to think of it, this really wasnâ€™t what he would expect Lieutenant Malcolm Reed to do, alone at night, on an alien planet. There probably was even a rule in the Starfleet book forbidding it.

â€œMalcolm?â€ he called, allowing his vocal chords to vibrate, this time. He retraced a couple of steps back towards the shore.

Malcolm turned abruptly, his rotating arms ruffling the surface and breaking the yellow stripes of reflected light into a myriad of wavelets. He blinked; he looked surprised. He took in his surroundings and seemed to tense.

Trip frowned. Had the man been sleepwalking? As far as he knew you werenâ€™t supposed to wake up someone who walked in their sleep â€“ which was what he had just done, dammit.

â€œEasy,â€ Trip said, a bit too loud and urgently, raising his hands, palms out. If he wasnâ€™t careful heâ€™d end up waking the Captain. More softly, he added, â€œEverythingâ€™s okay.â€

That may not be true; but he figured the best he could do at this point was to try and calm his startled friend.

Malcolmâ€™s eyes shifted from the water back to him, wide. He seemed frozen in place.

And then, in the bright light of those three yellow moons, Trip thought he sawâ€¦ It almost looked likeâ€¦ He blinked. Surely he must be hallucinating; Tâ€™Pol had found no traces ofâ€¦

The perfectly flat surface boiled.

â€œBehind you! Get away!â€ Trip screamed.

Tentacles twined around Malcolmâ€™s chest. The manâ€™s hands flew to them, and he tried to pry them away, his face contorted in a grimace of distress.

â€œMalcolm!â€

With a bubbling of water he was gone, pulled under.

Trip made to take off towards the water, but a firm hand caught him by the arm.

â€œArcher to the Bridge.â€

Out of the blue, the Captain had materialised; like Trip, he was in regulation briefs and T-shirt. He had his communicator in one hand and a phase pistol in the other.

â€œWeâ€™ve got to help him!â€ Trip cried out, heart thumping loudly against his ribcage.

â€œNot before we know what weâ€™re dealing with, and thatâ€™s an order,â€ Archer said firmly, though his eyes spoke of deep conflict.

Trip dragged his gaze away from the Captain and turned it back to the lake. Amidst splashes and churning water, a fierce struggle seemed to be going on.

â€œGo ahead,â€ an unmistakable voice said.

â€œTâ€™Pol, scan the lake immediately, something has attacked Malcolm, something big,â€ Archer urged.

Breaking free from his grip, Trip staggered right down to the waterâ€™s edge. He passed both hands through his hair, cursing under his breath; mad at Archer, at himself. Yes, even at himself; because after his first instinctive reaction, fear now had him in its grip and he didnâ€™t think heâ€™d be strong enough to run to Malcolmâ€™s rescue. Horrified, he watched an arm appear, only to be dragged back under the surface by a sinuous appendage. His breath caught, and he felt nausea rise in his throat.

â€œCaptain, I am not reading any biosigns, other than yours and the Commanderâ€™s,â€ Tâ€™Polâ€™s voice said, tension lacing it despite her Vulcan control. â€œAs you know, instruments show that the planetâ€™s fauna is notâ€“â€

â€œInstruments are wrong!â€ Archer cut her off in frustration.

Trip shot a glance over his shoulder and saw him aim the phase pistol at the water. Swivelling, he placed himself in the line of fire. â€œThe water is conductive!â€ he choked out, hands raised in a stopping gesture.

Archer pushed him resolutely aside. â€œI know! But itâ€™s on stun, lowest setting.â€

â€œCaptain,â€ Tâ€™Polâ€™s voice floated out of the communicator. â€œWhat is happening?â€

A second later a red beam hit the churning water. Archer kept firing for what seemed like ages; then lowered the weapon.

The silence that ensued was more ominous, possibly, than the frantic splashing that had preceded it. The surface of the lake was once again unbroken, though an irregular motion of waves held witness to the struggle that had disrupted the peace of that idyllic scenery.

Trip exchanged a worried glance with Archer. Neither spoke. They scanned the water with desperate eyes, but it was dark and impenetrable, and no form, human or otherwise could be seen.

â€œCaptain,â€ Tâ€™Polâ€™s voice sounded again, prompting a reply.

Archer brought the communicator to his lips. â€œTâ€™Pol, scan the lake for Malcolmâ€™s biosigns,â€ he said in a low rumble.

Trip could read the manâ€™s tension on his face.

â€œI cannot find them,â€ Tâ€™Polâ€™s said after a brief pause. â€œThe water must be blocking readings. I would caution against going into it. It is logical to think that---â€

â€œYes, but logic wonâ€™t save Malcolm!â€ Archer burst out, cutting her off once again. His face twisted in a grimace of contrasted feelings. Tâ€™Polâ€™s words had to have made an impression, though, for he didnâ€™t look ready to jump in, at least not yet. â€œIt must be close to two minutes now,â€ he said tautly, eyes stubbornly searching the water.

Trip was numb. He couldnâ€™t think of anything to say; or do. He considered himself a fairly brave man â€“ after all, he wouldnâ€™t be serving on a deep-space mission if he were faint-hearted; but to dive into the dark waters of an alien lake where some large, mysterious and dangerous creature lived took more courage than he felt he had. He had also always considered himself an instinctive person; but now all of a sudden he felt as prone to follow impulse as a Vulcan. Going in is likely to end up costing more lives than the one it is supposed to save, the voice of reason insisted, expanding in his mind. Coward, his conscience whispered, peeking timidly from behind the big painful lump in his chest.

Trip winced and looked down at his feet, and his heart skipped a beat.

â€œCaptâ€™nâ€¦â€ he stuttered, pointing to the water. Near the shore, where it was shallow, moments before it had been perfectly transparent; now something was staining it. Could it beâ€¦

â€œIâ€™m going in,â€ Archer decided, throwing the communicator and phase pistol on the grass.

And thatâ€™s when they saw him: an immobile form, floating face down, some ten, twelve meters from shore.

Archer cursed and took off, taking a few big leaps before diving head first. A second later Trip was following him, suddenly unmindful of the dangers that might lurk in the dark.

With a few, powerful strokes, the Captain reached Malcolm and turned him face up. â€œHe doesnâ€™t seem to be breathing,â€ he cried out to Trip, who wasnâ€™t as fast a swimmer as the ex-waterpolo player.

When Trip caught up with him, Archer was already swimming back to shore with Malcolmâ€™s listless body in tow. Eyes glued to the lifeless face, Trip helped bring the Lieutenant back onto firm ground, supporting his head and neck.

â€œCPR,â€ Archer tersely instructed, placing his hands flat on Malcolmâ€™s chest.

Trip silently bent to breathe into Malcolmâ€™s mouth.

â€œCome on, Lieutenant,â€ Archer said tautly, as he rhythmically compressed the manâ€™s chest. â€œYouâ€™re not dying on this planet, you hear me?â€

Trip forced himself to do his part and ignore how unresponsive Malcolm felt under his fingers. Every time it was Archerâ€™s turn, his eyes kept going back to the pale face.

â€œDammit, this is no way to go,â€ Archer growled, dripping water with every compression. â€œCome back to us, Lieutenant; thatâ€™s an order!â€

But Malcolm remained still and very white, except for the angry stripes that marked his chest and shoulders, where that creature had attached itself to him.

They were both starting to lose hope when the inert body finally twitched. Archer quickly turned Malcolm on one side, panting heavily as he patted his back. Immediately, Malcolm started bringing up water, coughing and sputtering, and it was a good few minutes before he was more or less done. Finally, he lay spent and trembling like a leaf.

â€œTrip, get a blanket,â€ Archer ordered, still out of breath.

When Trip returned, Malcolm was sitting up, hugging himself tightly; Archer was speaking with Phlox.

Trip draped the blanket around his shivering friendâ€™s shoulders. Malcolm winced as the material touched his injured skin, but immediately pulled it closer, darting Trip a quick acknowledging glance.

â€œYou okay?â€ Trip mumbled, still quite shaken.

Malcolm nodded. He didnâ€™t seem to be able to control his trembling.

Archer flipped the communicator shut and joined them, lowering onto his haunches.

â€œPhlox wants you transported back on Enterprise, Lieutenant,â€ he said, placing a fatherly hand on Malcolmâ€™s shoulder. â€œHeâ€™s waiting for you.â€

Malcolmâ€™s face, so very much younger and defenceless than they were used to, wet hair matted on his forehead, turned to the Captain. â€œAye, Sir,â€ he managed, through chattering teeth.

â€œSee you soon in Sickbay.â€

Archer got up, and he and Trip stepped back. It wasnâ€™t long before Malcolm had disappeared.

For a long moment they couldnâ€™t break their immobility, feeling the exhaustion left by the drop in adrenaline. But though the air was warm, they were soaked; and soon a shiver was travelling down Tripâ€™s spine.

â€œYou okay?â€ Archer asked hoarsely, unknowingly echoing Tripâ€™s own question to Malcolm.

Trip found himself nodding just as the Lieutenant had; but then something snapped in him. â€œActually, no,â€ he amended tautly. â€œIâ€™m not okay. But I wouldnâ€™t expect, or even want to be, after what just happened.â€

Archerâ€™s green eyes bore into him. â€œWhat the hell happened, anyway?â€ he asked frowningly. â€œWhy was Malcolm in the water in the first place?â€

â€œIâ€™ll be damned if I know.â€ Pulling on the back of his neck with one hand, Trip tried to gather his thoughts. â€œI woke up and he wasnâ€™t there, and when I went to look for him...â€ Pensively, he concluded, â€œHe didnâ€™t look like himself; he almost seemed to be sleepwalking.â€

Archer considered the words for a moment. â€œCome on,â€ he finally said. â€œLetâ€™s get into something dry. Then weâ€™ll break down the tents and get back to Enterprise.â€

Trip took a step and a reflection caught his eye. There was an object in the grass, near the spot where Malcolm had lain. He picked it up. â€œA knife,â€ he said, showing it to Archer. â€œIt must be Malcolmâ€™s. Itâ€™s wet.â€ It was a pocket knife with a handle in wood that had seen better times. In the commotion it had gone unnoticed.

Archer took it and turned it in his hands. â€œSo now we know why the water was stained,â€ he reasoned. A pale smile appeared on his lips. â€œTrust Malcolm to hold onto his knife even whenâ€¦â€ His smile fell. â€œUnconscious,â€ he concluded, though Trip could tell another word had crossed his mind.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tâ€™Pol caught up with Archer and Trip at a fork in the corridor as they strode towards Sickbay. She exchanged a glance with them, and they walked in silence for a few steps, before she spoke.

â€œIt was unfortunate that the instruments were wrong, Captain,â€ she said, a hint of something making her voice less Vulcanly impassive. â€œThey still do not register any life forms larger than a rodent, on the planet.â€

Archer let out a sarcastic snort. â€œSo much for our state-of-the-art technology,â€ he commented. â€œThat thing down there was certainly larger than a rodent.â€

â€œHowâ€™s Malcolm?â€ Trip enquired, wanting to move past this useless point of discussion. More than one hour had passed since the man had been transported back to the ship.

â€œWhen I left Sickbay, the Doctor was treating some burns on the Lieutenantâ€™s skin.â€

Trip winced as the image of sinuous tentacles wrapping around Malcolmâ€™s chest replayed in his mind.

 

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In Sickbay Phlox was at his desk.

â€œDoctor,â€ Archer said, entering.

Phlox cast a look over his shoulder and rose. â€œAh, Captain. I was expecting you.â€

His voice sounded reassuringly cheerful â€“ though admittedly with Phlox that might not mean much. As he turned to face them he broke into a Denobulan smile.

â€œLieutenant Reed will be fine,â€ he said. â€œThanks to you and the Commander, I might add. You revived him with commendable speed and efficiency.â€

It hadnâ€™t felt so to Trip; but tension finally began to seep away from him, and Archer visibly relaxed for the first time.

â€œNo brain damage, no sign of heart problems, not even a hint of lung infection,â€ Phlox went on happily. â€œI had to treat some nasty burns on Mister Reedâ€™s chest and shoulders, however; caused by an acid substance that creature secreted. I will keep him in Sickbay under observation, at least for one night.â€

â€œMay we see him?â€ the Captain asked, casting a glance to the drawn privacy curtain.

â€œSee him? Yes, of course,â€ Phlox said. â€œBut you wonâ€™t be able to speak to him. I gave him something to make him rest.â€

Phlox led the way to Malcolmâ€™s biobed, and for a moment they watched the pale man sleep, his soft, easy breathing chasing away any residual worry. Then the Doctor herded them out and closed the curtain again.

â€œHow about you and the Commander?â€ Phlox enquired, his blue gaze assessing. â€œAnything to report to your Doctor?â€

â€œWeâ€™re okay, Doc, thanks,â€ Archer replied for them both. â€œA bit of rest and weâ€™ll be like new.â€

As they walked away, Archer cast Tâ€™Pol a side glance.

â€œI was surprised to find you still on the Bridge when I paged from the planet,â€ he said. â€œIt was rather late.â€

Tâ€™Pol returned the glance, eyebrows going up. â€œI was... unable to sleep. If it werenâ€™t illogical, I would say I was sensing that something was about to happen.â€

Trip watched Archer frown at the words.

â€œAs soon as you have finished collecting the last data, take us out of orbit,â€ the Captain said darkly. â€œSomething is strange about what happened; about Malcolmâ€™s behaviour, about that lake. I donâ€™t want to risk any more â€˜accidentsâ€™,â€ he said, stressing that last word.

â€œUnderstood,â€ Tâ€™Pol acknowledged, gracefully tilting her head.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

O-eight-hundred. Trip pressed the companel on Malcolmâ€™s door and waited, growing more ill-at-ease with every second that ticked by. Maybe he shouldnâ€™t have come. Maybe Malcolm was resting. Maybe he should go away.

The door suddenly opened and Malcolm was there, loose shirt worn outside dark jeans.

â€œI passed by Sickbay and...â€ Trip cocked his head, leaving the rest unsaid. â€œMind if I come in?â€ he enquired, forcing himself not to shy away from grey eyes that looked uncharacteristically insecure, making him feel even more like an intruder.

â€œNoâ€¦â€ Malcolm stuttered. He stepped aside, and Trip walked past him.

â€œI was surprised Phlox had released you already,â€ he said, getting to the desk and turning. He took a long assessing look at his friend, not caring that he was being obvious. He was pleased by what he saw. If one disregarded those troubled eyes, Malcolm looked okay.

â€œHe had no reason to keep me,â€ Malcolm replied, still at the door. â€œHe monitored me while I slept, and said I passed all the tests.â€

At least someone had slept. Trip heaved an inner sigh. He himself had tossed and turned in his impossible quest to find a comfortable position. Or had it been his impossible quest to find some peace of mind?

â€œIâ€™m off-duty, though,â€ Malcolm went on, finally stepping closer. â€œIâ€™ll have to go back twice a day for treatment.â€

He seemed to be looking for something to say, anything that would fill the silence, because for sure it wasnâ€™t like him to talk about anything that had to do with his health.

â€œThose...â€ He faltered, wincing. â€œThey secreted some sort of acid. They burned my skin.â€

Tripâ€™s eyes shifted to his friendâ€™s partly unbuttoned shirt, to the bandages that could be seen under it. He grimaced. â€œHurts?â€

Malcolmâ€™s mouth curved downwards. â€œPhlox is making sure it doesnâ€™t.â€ He gestured to the chair as he lowered himself carefully on the bed.

Trip didnâ€™t need to be asked twice. By the time Archer and he had got back on Enterprise and in their quarters, it had been nearly o-three-hundred, ship time. He had taken a shower and had looked forward to a few hours of shuteye, but... Every couple of snores he had found himself sitting front-row at the movies â€“ and the choice of horror film hadnâ€™t been to his taste. Four hours of disrupted sleep didnâ€™t leave you very rested.

Picking up the single data pad that was placed right in the middle of Malcolmâ€™s uncluttered desk, Trip began to fiddle with it, balancing it on one side.

â€œHave you talked to the Captâ€™n?â€ he asked, glancing up as he fleetingly wondered if Archer had managed where he had failed: sleep.

Malcolm licked his lips uneasily. â€œNot yet.â€ His eyes darted away, to some spot on the deck-plating. â€œIâ€™m not looking forward to it,â€ he admitted, in his dark voice.

Well, at least the man felt comfortable enough in his company not to hide his feelings â€“ Trip mused. It was good to know that their friendship had progressed to the point where the reserved Lieutenant was willing to let him cast a glance over the fence. Maybe coming here had been a good idea after all.

Tautly, Malcolm concluded, â€œI wouldnâ€™t blame the Captain if he kicked me all the way back to steward.â€

Trip frowned. It was all so confusing. Images of Malcolm turning abruptly to his voice, looking surprised to find himself where he had been, flashed before his mindâ€™s eye.

â€œWhat happened down there?â€ he asked, directly. â€œI mean, itâ€™s not like you to be careless; and takinâ€™ a swim all alone in an alien lake at night is not exactly a thoughtful thing to do.â€

Malcolmâ€™s eyes shot up, flashing with some strong emotion. â€œI didnâ€™t go for a swim,â€ he said animatedly. â€œBloody hell, I would neverâ€¦â€ Leaning forward, he clasped the edge of the bed. â€œWhen you called me I suddenlyâ€¦ I had been dreaming,â€ he concluded, in a mutter.

â€œDreaming?â€

Trip had thought about it a lot, and had decided he wasnâ€™t buying the idea that someone could sleepwalk into a lake without waking up.

â€œMalcolm, you were chest-deep in waterâ€¦â€

Malcolm passed a hand over his face. When he re-emerged, he looked painfully lost.

â€œIt wasnâ€™t really a dream,â€ he croaked out. â€œIt was somethingâ€¦ different.â€ He frowned. â€œI was aware of what I was doing â€“ sort of â€“ and yetâ€¦ I couldnâ€™t help it. I woke up in our tent, and it was as if someone or something was calling me; I had to go in the water. Like a challenge. I remember feeling... good about it.â€

Silence fell for a moment. Trip had not seen this coming. He thought Malcolmâ€™s words over.

â€œDo you think it couldâ€™ve somethinâ€™ to do with that creature?â€ he wondered at length. Nothing could be ruled out.

The answer came fast and with startling vehemence.

â€œI donâ€™t know. I donâ€™t bloody care.â€ The grey eyes scrunched shut. â€œI only want to forget. And I canâ€™t.â€

Trip had never seen Malcolmâ€™s emotions so close to the surface. It made him feel uncomfortable, as if he was trespassing into some private land he had no right to step on â€“ or even see.

â€œHey, give yourself a little time,â€ he said gently. â€œYou nearly died down on that planet. In fact, technically you did.â€

Suddenly Malcolm was up on his feet; as if by pacing he could outrun his thoughts.

â€œIt all happened so fast,â€ he said, getting to the far wall and turning. â€œI didnâ€™t know what was going onâ€¦ what had pulled me underâ€¦ I thrashed about, struggling against thoseâ€¦â€

They were broken sentences, troubled flashbacks.

â€œAnd all I could think of was that my lungs were on fire, and I was about toâ€¦â€ Stopping, he concluded almost to himself, with a soft huff, â€œDrown, light years away fromâ€“â€

This time, with a self-conscious glance in Tripâ€™s direction, he cut himself off.

The account didnâ€™t help Tripâ€™s guilt one bit.

â€œMalcolm, Iâ€™m sorry,â€ he blurted out tautly. â€œMy first reaction was to jump in to help you. The Captâ€™n stopped me; said we didnâ€™t know what we were facinâ€™.â€

â€œThe Captain was right,â€ Malcolm quietly asserted. â€œNo point risking any more lives.â€

But Trip couldnâ€™t stop there.

â€œAnd then I got numb with fear,â€ he forced out, seeking Malcolmâ€™s gaze. â€œMy friend was fightinâ€™ for his life and I was frozen, I couldnâ€™t move. Iâ€™ve been feeling terrible ever since; like a damn coward.â€

There, he had said it.

Malcolm blinked. â€œCowards die many times before their deaths,â€ he croaked out abstractedly. â€œThe valiant never taste of death but once.â€

Trip bit his lip, wincing, and the grey eyes refocused on him.

â€œYouâ€™re no coward, Trip,â€ Malcolm said quietly. â€œItâ€™s something my father used to tell me all the time.â€ His mouth curved in a fragile smile. â€œIf you hadnâ€™t got up to look for me in the first place, if you had turned on the other side and gone back to sleep, I wouldnâ€™t be alive now. Phlox said you and the Captain gave me CPR,â€ he added, a cloud passing over his face.

Those frantic moments were going to be hard to forget.

â€œThe Captâ€™n set his pistol on stun and fired,â€ Trip began; it was his time to recall. â€œAnd after a couple of minutes we saw you, floating face-down in the water.â€ He watched Malcolm tense up, but it wasnâ€™t by keeping things inside that they would manage to move past this experience. â€œWhen we got you on dry ground, you werenâ€™t breathinâ€™.â€

They looked at each other, each fighting their own demons.

â€œI was in some dark place, the famous tunnel,â€ Malcolm mumbled. â€œAnd light was at the end. I wanted to go to it, but something was holding me back. I think there were voices.â€

â€œOne voice, the Captâ€™nâ€™s,â€ Trip corrected, deadpan. â€œCursinâ€™ and tellinâ€™ you to get back.â€

And now it was Malcolm wincing, and Trip hurrying to explain, â€œHe was only scared weâ€™d lose you.â€

Closing the gap to the bed, Malcolm let himself drop despondently back on it. â€œTo think that he had finally seen my point; that he should include Security with an away party,â€ he commented with a bitter huff. â€œNow he must be convinced for good that itâ€™s better to leave it â€“ or at least his Security Officer â€“ on board.â€

â€œNah,â€ Trip dismissed.

He heaved an inner sigh. Werenâ€™t they all back, safe and sound? That was the important thing.

He narrowed his gaze. â€œSo,â€ he enquired, with a sudden change of tone. â€œWho defeated the monster in the end, you or the Captain?â€

He had actually wondered, while he was tossing and turning in bed.

Malcolm looked up blankly. â€œHow am I supposed to know?â€ he blurted out. â€œAt some point things just got blurred.â€

â€œI guess it was the Captâ€™n, then,â€ Trip concluded innocently. He rubbed his chin to hide a smile when he saw Malcolm frown as he rose to the bait.

â€œIâ€™m certain I did quite a bit of damage,â€ the Lieutenant said stiffly. â€œAt least as much as that bloody beast did to me. Good thing I had my trusted knife.â€ On the coda of that, his face twisted in a smirk of displeasure. â€œIâ€™m only sorry I lost it. It was a present from my grandfather.â€

Trip raised eyebrows Ã -la-Tâ€™Pol; then unzipped a leg pocket and, stretching his limb, reached into it. He couldnâ€™t hold back a grin seeing Malcolm follow his movements uncomprehendingly.

â€œYa mean this little toy here?â€

â€œIâ€™ll be damned, yes!â€

Trip handed Malcolm the knife he had found on the grass, pleased to see his friend finally shed some of his sombreness.

Opening it, Malcolm passed a loving finger flat over its blade. â€œYou oiled it,â€ he said in surprise, flicking Trip a grateful glance.

â€œIt was all wet; and it looked old; I figured I had to take good care of it for you.â€

The grey eyes mellowed, losing some of the edge that had been there.

â€œNow, if only you volunteered to give Archer a report in my place,â€ Malcolm muttered under his breath.

Trip rolled his eyes. â€œCome on, Malcolm, what are you afraid of? You did nothinâ€™ wrong. Somethinâ€™ strange went on down there; itâ€™s obvious. Weâ€™ll never even know what,â€ he added with a snort.

â€œYes, butâ€“â€

â€œBesides, the Captâ€™n is probably just as nervous about talkinâ€™ to you, as you are bout talkinâ€™ to him.â€

That got Malcolmâ€™s attention. â€œWhat do you mean?â€ he asked, intrigued.

Trip debated for a moment if he should reveal what he knew. Would it be a breach of confidence if he told Malcolm?

Ah â€“ what the heck; why not give the Lieutenant a little leg up, for once.

â€œI know the Captâ€™n feels bad about firinâ€™ into the water,â€ he said, with a meaningful dance of the eyebrows. â€œHeâ€™s afraid thatâ€™s what endangered your life.â€

â€œNonsense,â€ Malcolm countered right away. â€œIt was the only sensible thing to do.â€

He was frowning, though, looking to be turning the words in his mind.

The bell rang.

Trip cast a look towards the door. â€œWell, I guess you get a chance to tell him that,â€ he said, waving a thumb. He rose, echoing Malcolmâ€™s groan with a chuckle.

â€œCaptâ€™n,â€ Trip cheerfully greeted his surprised C.O., opening the door in Malcolmâ€™s place.

â€œTripâ€¦â€ Archer cast a nervous look past him. â€œFancy meeting you here.â€

Malcolm joined them at the door. â€œGood morning, Sir.â€

â€œMalcolm.â€ A forced smile appeared on Archerâ€™s face. â€œGlad to see you up and about.â€ He cleared his throat. â€œPhlox told me Iâ€™d find you here, and I thought Iâ€™d see how you were doing. May I come in for a moment?â€

â€œOf course, Sir. Please.â€

Trip shifted his gaze from one officer to the other, gauging their degrees of nervousness. Right now Archer definitely looked at a disadvantage.

â€œWell, Iâ€™ll leave you two,â€ he said, with innocent thoughtfulness.

â€œYeah. See you later, Trip.â€

As Archer walked towards the desk, Trip gave Malcolm a quick wink. â€œDonâ€™t be too hard on him, Lieutenant,â€ he whispered. â€œHeâ€™s still your Captain.â€

A narrowed-eye look pinned him down, before the door slid shut.

Trip started along the corridor, laughing softly. He could imagine the tongue-tied conversation that would take place between those two. Captain, I am prepared to face any punishment as you see fitâ€¦ Actually, Lieutenant, I have come to apologiseâ€¦

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tâ€™Pol swivelled in her chair and leaned over to access her special viewer. The lake appeared, its colours softened by a thin morning mist. Still and peaceful, it bore no evidence of the drama that had played out on its shores just hours before.

Repressing a sigh, Tâ€™Pol focused on her job. She had meditated longer then usual the evening before, yet still felt strangely uneasy. She would collect the last data needed from the planet andâ€¦

Her spine stiffened, and she almost blinked, a frown coming to crease her brow. She watched for a moment; then, fighting a shiver, straightened and pushed the viewer back into its recess. It wasnâ€™t what she had seen â€“ she wasnâ€™t sure sheâ€™d actually seen anything â€“ it was more of a feelingâ€¦ No, that wasnâ€™t logical.

But nor was it logical to deny the truth of what sheâ€™dâ€¦ sensed. Ill intent. Violence. Malevolence. And a being well aware of their â€“ of her â€“ presence.

â€œEnsign Mayweather,â€ she said.

The Helmsman turned to her.

â€œBreak orbit, quarter impulse. Go to warp as soon as possible.â€

â€œWhat course, Maâ€™am?â€

Tâ€™Pol looked into the questioning dark gaze. She lifted her eyebrows.

â€œAway from this planet, Ensign.â€

THE END


End file.
